A Crack in Time
by Clashes of Red and Green
Summary: Hermione Granger has a crack in her wall. But it isn't a normal crack. She can hear things, and sometimes see things coming from the crack. Even with all her magical studies, she can't figure out what it is. So what does one do when they are curious about something? They touch it. -Set after the Second War. Follows the canon plot mostly. Has some Doctor Who in it-
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer:** Anything affiliated to Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. It does not belong to me no matter how much I wish it did. Anything affiliated to Doctor Who belongs to BBC and the writers. I do not own it. I am not Satan.

The sun shone through the window causing a glare to appear on the pictures that lined the pale purple walls. Dust particles floated through the air. The usual neat and tidy blankets on the bed were now crumpled by the weight of someone sitting on them. Hermione Granger sat there staring at the wall. Her back was straight and her hands were folded in her lap. Her face was scrunched up in concentration as she gazed at the one blemish on the wall. While three of the walls remained clean and perfect the fourth one bore a large crack in the middle. This is what the young woman stared at. She wouldn't have bothered with it usually, she would've just flicked her wand and it would repair itself. But this crack wasn't ordinary. It was far from it.

Hermione was perplexed by it. For sometimes she would hear things, and as she was the only one in the house, she could only trace it back to the crack. And sometimes she would see things, out of the corner of her eye while she was sitting at her desk, she would catch movement coming from behind the crack. Hermione had a vast knowledge of magical things, yet she never recalled anything about this. Even after searching through book after book, she still remained clueless. Hermione was utterly stumped by this split in the wall.

She had told her friends about it, hoping that they would know something, but they brushed it off saying that the war messed with her head, and that it was only a figment of her imagination. Hermione knew better though. This wasn't in her head. This was as real as the house she lived in.

As she studied it more and more, the more curios she became. She was quite certain that she wasn't supposed to see the swish of fabric, or hear snippets of conversations coming from a crack. Hermione wondered what it possibly could be. If she learned one thing from the boys in her primary school, it was that if you were curious about something, you should touch it. So that's exactly what Hermione did that day all alone in her room, and it was possibly the worst decision she had ever made.

Hermione reached her hand out to trace the crack with her finger. She knew she shouldn't have touched an unknown magical thing, but her curiosity was killing her. However, instead of feeling broken wall, she felt her finger go through it. She only had a few seconds of wondering before the rest of her body was sucked through too. It wasn't exactly like apparating, though the sensation was quite similar. It only lasted briefly and then Hermione was standing in a deserted hallway. It wasn't just any hallway though, it was a Hogwarts one. "But it couldn't be," she thought, "The Hogwarts I know is rubble." And that was the truth. Not I single place was intact. The final battle made sure of that. "So where am I?"

She looked around. Not a single person was in sight. The walls were black from the dark, and shadows lay in every corner. Hermione walked along, hoping to see some clue as to where she was. All was quiet except for her footsteps.

She rounded a corner and spotted a figure. Before she could do anything, the person called out.

"Hello? It's late; you shouldn't be out of bed."

The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place to whom it belonged to. Hermione walked toward the man and explained, "Oh um, well I'm actually a little lost, and..." her voice trailed off as she saw who called out.

Before her stood Dumbledore, but not the Dumbledore she knew. He was younger, with auburn hair and less lines upon his face. His eyes still twinkled blue like the one she had known. Amongst the blue was curiosity.

"And who are you? I can't seem to remember your face. And where are your robes?"

"Well you see," Hermione stuttered, "um..I'm Hermione, and," she tried to think of a story as to why she was here, but her brain wasn't coming up with anything.

With curiosity still in his eyes, yet with a kinder voice Dumbledore spoke, "You seem to have a lot to tell. Some of which you aren't so sure about yourself. Maybe we should go to my office and sort everything out. Would you mind following me?"

Flabbergasted by his assessment she merely nodded her head and walked behind him. They walked in silence. The only noises were the swishing of his robes and the clunking of shoes. They walked for a few minutes, and then Dumbledore stopped in front of a door.

"After you." He gestured her in with his hand. Hermione walked in and looked around. The trinkets that had been in his office when he was headmaster were now littered around the smaller room.

"Please, have a seat." Dumbledore pointed to the red chair in front of his desk. She sat down on the comfortable seat while Dumbledore took the one behind his desk.

"So, what are you doing here Ms…?" he looked at her.

"Granger. Hermione Granger." She told him, deciding it was best to be honest with him.

"Alright Ms. Granger, I am Albus Dumbledore. I'm the Transfiguration teacher. Now, would you like to tell me how you got here?"

Hermione took a breath then started the story, "I'm from the year 1998," Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything, "There was a crack in my wall at home. It wasn't an ordinary crack. Sometimes I would hear or see things coming from it. I didn't know what it was and  
I made the stupid mistake of touching it. I sort of Apparated here, and then you found me. I'm not quite sure what happened."

"Hm. Well that is quite peculiar. You are not lying to me I presume?"

"No, of course not sir."

"Well Ms. Granger I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I have my guesses. An old friend of mine once said, 'People assume that time is a straight progression of cause and effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective view point- it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.' It seems to me that that crack was a door to here. I'm not sure how it got there, but it did and that's what's important." Dumbledore gazed at her over his half-moon spectacles. Hermione didn't know what to think, and there was one thing that stuck in her mind, "Where and when _was_ here?" she voiced the question out loud.

"You are at Hogwarts in the year 1943." He told her.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No Ms. Granger, I am not kidding. Though I'm sure you want me to be."

"But...But, is there any way to get back?" Hermione hoped he would say yes because she did not want to stay here forever, away from her everyone, from Harry and Ron.

"I think that if you wished to go back to your time, and I'm quite positive you do, that you will need to find the crack that leads back there," he mused.

"But that'll take ages," she exclaimed, "This is an old castle, there must be hundreds of cracks!"

"Then it looks like you will be stuck here for a while, and if you are to stay, you will need to get sorted into a house and acquire supplies. You did go to Hogwarts before?"

"Yes, I did, but won't people wonder who I am and where I came from?"

"Yes, people will wonder, as that's their natural instinct. You will need a cover story. It'll be disastrous for them to know who you truly are," Dumbledore thought for a moment, "How about this? You were homeschooled by your overprotective mother. You begged her to let you come here and she finally allowed you to. Yes, I think that will do. You might need a different last name as well. How about Perkins?"

"That's fine. Okay, so I was homeschooled, got it. When will I get sorted?"

"Since I'm sure the Headmaster is sleeping right now, you will get sorted tomorrow before breakfast. You may sleep in the guest quarters for tonight. I will get the house-elves to send you some clothes. Do you have any questions?"

"No sir."

"Well then Hermione, let me show you to your room."

They both got up and exited his office. He took her through many hallways and finally stopped beside a wooden door.

"Goodnight Ms. Granger. I'll see you in the morning." He gave her a little bow.

"Goodnight, sir."

Dumbledore walked away leaving Hermione alone in the hallway. She pushed open the door and walked inside. The room was simple, containing a bed, wardrobe, desk, and a door that led to a bathroom. She saw that there was already a pile of clothes in the middle of the bed. She walked over and pulled out a pair of pajamas. Hermione put them on then lay down on the bed. Thinking over everything that happened that day and wondering whether she was ever going to see her friends again, she began feeling drowsy. Without even getting under the covers she fell asleep wondering what she was going to do here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer:** Anything affiliated with Harry Potter belongs to the marvelous J.K. Rowling. I do not own though I wish I did.

roseberrygirl: Thanks though I can't claim all the credit for that idea. Nobody would resist poking it. Nobody.

PunktLee: Maybe..Maybe he is, maybe he isn't.. ;) And thank you so much!

itsraininggummybears237: Thank you thank you thank you for reviewing! And they just might..we'll just have to wait and see ;)

followsrabbit: Thank you! I can't fully claim the crack idea, I was inspired by Doctor Who.

Hermione cracked her eyes open and blinked several times against the bright sunlight. Small clumps of morning crust lined the corners of her eyes. She rubbed them away sleepily. She peeled away the covers exposing herself to the slightly chilly air in the room. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Hermione stretched causing several cracks to be heard around the room. She rose out of bed slowly, yawning as she did so. She dragged her feet across the room to the bathroom, stubbing her toe on the dresser as she passed it. Her little toe throbbing, she made her way into the shower.

Hermione was not a morning person. She absolutely hated the mornings. She would much rather lay in her bed for hours than leave the comforts of it. This would explain why she didn't notice she wasn't in her own home, yet in Hogwarts, until after she got out of the shower. And when she was awake enough to remember all that happened, her toothbrush fell out of her mouth and into the sink below, leaving a small trail of toothpaste on her chin. She quickly spit out the rest of the toothpaste and cleaned her face.

Staring wide-eyed into the mirror she whispered, "Oh _fuck_. What am I supposed to do? How did I? How am I?_ Fuck._"

She then tried reasoning with herself. "Well Hermione, the best thing to do now would probably be to finish getting ready and not lose your mind."

"Not lose my mind? That's going to be a little hard to do when I'm standing here talking to myself in _the 1940's_."

She rubbed her face. "Stay level-headed, Hermione. Level-headed." She took a deep breath.

"You're going to finish getting ready, then you're going to go to the Headmaster's office and get sorted. No big deal."

"Yeah it wouldn't be a big deal if I weren't in _1943_." She splashed some cold water on her face. "Okay. Enough talking to yourself, you crazy lunatic. Stay calm and finish getting ready."

And Hermione did just that. She got dressed, attempted brushing her lion mane, and waited patiently for someone to come and collect her. She may or may not have been having a minor panic attack during this.

After fifteen minutes of minor freak outs and calm reassurances, a knock sounded at the door. She got to her feet and opened the door. Instead of finding Dumbledore like she thought she would, a shy looking girl about her age was present.

"Hello, I'm Aggie Creevey," she introduced herself, brushing a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear, "You must be Hermione Perkins. I was told by Professor Dumbledore to take you to the Headmaster's office."

Hermione smiled warmly, "Yes I'm Hermione. Nice to meet you. Shall we get going?"

Aggie nodded her head and stepped to the side. Hermione closed the door behind her and fell into step beside the new acquaintance. They walked for a bit when Aggie nervously broke the silence, "So I heard you were homeschooled. What was that like?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek hoping she wouldn't turn out to be too terrible of a liar, "It wasn't that much fun really. Though I did get to sleep in a bit, so that was a plus."

Aggie's blue eyes looked over at her. "What made you want to come here?"

"I wanted to know what it was like learning from a real teacher. Not that my mother wasn't great, she taught me loads, I just wanted to be in a school environment, you know?"

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean," Aggie agreed, nodding her head slightly. "Must've gotten boring with no classmates to talk to when you weren't interested in something."

Hermione blushed a bit, "Actually I was always interested in everything. Everything fascinated me. I'm a bit of a bookworm, have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and all that."

Now it was Aggie's turn to blush. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean.."

"Oh no, don't apologize. I know everyone else doesn't like learning as much as I do. Especially when it comes to History of Magic."

Aggie laughed at that. "Yes, History of Magic is quite a hard class to get through. At least you didn't have Professor Binns teaching you. He's a right old bore. Going on about goblin rebellions in that monotone voice of his. I'm quite surprised I haven't fallen asleep in his class before."

"Well congratulations to you. Let's see if you can make it another year," Hermione laughed.

"Merlin I hope so."

By the time they reached the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Hermione hoped that she could call Aggie a friend. The girl was quite funny and smart, and Hermione was quite certain she was going to be placed in Gryffindor with her. Then they could build on their friendship, and though she was never going to be able to replace Harry or Ron's friendship, she thought that Aggie might be able to be in the ranks of the likes of them.

"Determination," Aggie said the password and the stone statue revealed a spiraling set of steps. The two of them walked up into the cramped space and entered a medium-sized office. Very different from her own Headmaster's office, there were no odd trinkets anywhere in the room. Everything lay neat and organized except for a clutter of papers upon a wooden desk. Two small bookshelves were up against the wall. A few chairs sat in front of the desk, and behind that desk sat an old wizard. Though not as old as the Dumbledore from her time, he was quite up there in the age department.

Armando Dippet looked up from the papers he was sifting through. His eyebrows furrowed together for a moment in confusion, and then they went back to normal. He addressed Hermione with a withered voice, "Oh, yes, you must be the new student. Dumbledore told me about you. Helen was it?"

"No, sir, it's Hermione. Hermione Perkins."

"Yes, that's what I said wasn't it?"

Hermione glanced over at Aggie who merely smirked and lifted her shoulders. She was used to Dippet's strange ways.

Letting it slide Hermione said, "I'm supposed to get sorted today. Well at least that's what Professor Dumbledore told me, sir."

"Ah yes. Yes you are supposed to be sorted. Let me just get the hat." As he got up his knees cracked from his old age. He walked towards one of the bookshelves. He grabbed the familiar worn brown hat from the top shelf and walked over to Aggie instead of Hermione.

"Here young lady, just put it on your head and it will do the sorting for you."

"Sorry, sir," Aggie said looking a bit embarrassed, "but Hermione is over there." She pointed to the other side of the room.

"Of course she is, I know that. I spoke to her only a minute ago. What do you take me as? An old fool?"

Hermione had to stifle a laugh. Aggie's face flared red. "No, sir, of course not. I'm sorry."

He gave her a look and walked to the right person this time. "Now just put this on and the hat will sort you. It may be a bit odd, but that's the way you do it."

"Believe me, sir, I'm quite used to odd," and with that Hermione placed the magical hat upon her head. Even though Hermione had grown quite a lot since she was a first year, the hat still covered her eyes. Then the familiar voice rang in her head.

"Back again Ms. Granger? This is strange. Then again, you and your friends did get up to some unusual things, so I can't really say I'm surprised."

"It wasn't my fault this time, believe me. I wish I wasn't here."

"Oh, my dear, but it is partially your fault. You were the one who decided to touch the crack. You really didn't have to."

"It was a mysterious thing. Tell me you wouldn't have touched it!"

"But I have no hands, so no, I would not have touched it," came the sarcastic reply.

"Well excuse me for being the naturally curious person I am," she thought hotly.

"I wouldn't get too snappy with me if I were you. Remember, your fate at Hogwarts rests in my metaphorical hands."

She gave a tiny sigh. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can you please sort me now? Preferably Gryffindor," she added.

"Are you sure you want Gryffindor again? You don't want to give one of the other houses a try? Nobody has ever gotten this opportunity before Ms. Granger. Are you sure you want it to slip out of your hands?" The garment tried persuading her.

"No, I'm pretty positive I still want Gryffindor."

"But you have the stubbornness of a Slytherin and the ambition. Why don't you give your 'rival' house a go?"

"Please don't put me in Slytherin. I will give you anything for me to be not put there," Hermione begged.

"Ah, but I'm a hat, there is not much I can receive. But if you are so adamant about in Gryffindor then Gryffindor you shall be in."

And for everyone else to hear, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione pulled off the hat and handed it back to Professor Dippet. Him and Aggie were smiling at her.

"I knew you'd be Gryffindor!" Aggie exclaimed and she went and hugged her.

"Congratulations on your house Ms. Perkins. Professor Dumbledore is your Head of House. After breakfast Ms. Creevey here will show you to your dorm. Now here are some robes. Put them on and you two can go down to breakfast." From a closet he removed a set of robes with red and gold on them. She pulled them over her head and adjusted them. They were just about the right size. With a farewell to the abnormal and forgetful Professor Dippet the two girls exited his office.

In the hallway Aggie went on and on about how great the year was going to be. She went on about her roommates, the classes (even though they were only a week in she claimed that they were going to be ten times better now that Hermione was here), the teachers, everything. Hermione's original thought on the girl's personality was very wrong. While she was shy and quiet at first, when you got her talking, she wouldn't stop. Hermione rather liked her personality.

When they reached the doors to the Great Hall, Hermione was thinking that her time here wasn't going to be so bad. She had already made a friend, she was in the house she wanted to be in, she knew how to get back to her time, and although that prospect seemed daunting, she was certain she would be able to achieve it. The day was going splendidly for Hermione, and she was in a very good mood (despite it being early in the morning). The universe was being kind to her today, well, until she opened the door to find the past-self of the figure of her nightmares right in front of her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

What's this? A new chapter? Yes! Sorry for not updating in forever, but I started writing this during winter break, and I didn't realize how hard writing would be with school. School has been basically drowning me. And I only ended up writing this at, like, 2 in the morning because that's when inspiration hit. And if it's crap, which it most likely is, I blame my sleep deprived mind for thinking it was good.

* * *

Hermione nearly ran into him though she stopped herself just in time. She was quite shocked to see him; in fact, she had altogether forgotten that it was his time period. A feeling of unease rose up inside her. The year was going to be hard enough, but now she had a young dark lord to watch out for. She hoped that if she didn't draw attention to herself, he would just leave her be. She mumbled a quick apology, but he didn't even acknowledge her. He just gave her a cold look and pushed passed her.

"Well isn't he charming," Hermione thought sarcastically.

She and Aggie continued on to the Gryffindor table. Aggie led her to a small group of people who were obviously her friends since they greeted her warmly. Hermione sat down, conscious of the curious looks she was receiving.

"Everyone, meet Hermione. She's a new student," Aggie introduced her. Hermione gave a small smile.

The girl in front of her seemed oddly familiar, and when she introduced herself Hermione knew why.

"Minerva McGonagall, glad to meet you," she extended her hand and Hermione took it. She was quite surprised to see her old professor. Even more surprised at how young and cheerful she looked. She was very different than the stern, elderly woman Hermione knew.

"I'm Ciara Finnigan."

"And I'm Aiden Finnigan," two Irish voices greeted from her left. She looked over and saw a boy and girl who resembled her old friend, Seamus, greatly.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Hermione told them sincerely. While food appeared on the table they asked her a lot of questions, and she felt a bit guilty for having to lie to them. She would have much rather told the truth, but she knew she could not do that. Even though they seemed trustworthy she had to be careful.

Last night before retiring, she and Dumbledore had planned out her schedule and had gotten the required supplies. Now, when she received it, she was quite excited to see that she had Transfiguration first. She was looking forward to see how Dumbledore taught. After comparing schedules with her knew acquaintances and an exclamation of, "You're taking how many classes?!" she set off with all of them to the Transfiguration class room.

When she walked in she could definitely tell that the room belonged to Dumbledore. Very different than McGonagall's tidy class room, his contained all the odd trinkets that Hermione had seen in his Headmaster's office. They were scattered all over, and animals sat in cages near the back, presumably for transfiguring. The dark, wooden desks remained the same, and Hermione and the others sat in the front. They shared this class with the Hufflepuffs, Hermione noted. They talked animatedly for a few minutes while the rest of the class filed in. As soon as the professor walked in, however, the room became silent, and everyone sat up a little straighter as Dumbledore moved to the front. He was clearly respected.

"Good morning, class. I hope you had a most excellent breakfast." He smiled at them. "This semester we will be learning about human transfiguration," Hermione perked up at this, "Now, human transfiguration can be very complicated, indeed. If done wrong, the results can be most…interesting. We, of course, will not be doing anything too extreme this early on, but later in the year you might want to start paying attention to me."

The class laughed at this.

"Now, does anyone know the spell to change one's hair color?"

Hermione, as predicted, raised her hand. Minerva raised her hand also. But being the new student, she got called on.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at her, "Yes, Ms. Perkins?"

"It's 'capillus mutatio', sir."

"Quite correct! Five points to Gryffindor. This spell has come quite handy when I feel like making my eyebrows a different color. And that is specifically what this class will be about. I want everyone to take a mirror and make your eyebrows the color of your choice."

He passed out a small mirror to everyone and wrote the incantation on the board along with the counter-spell for those who might succeed. Hermione felt very confident that she could do it, mostly because she had already done it. She waited a few minutes before performing the spell, to not seem like she had already perfected it. When she had turned her eyebrows a pleasant shade of purple, Professor Dumbledore congratulated her and awarded Gryffindor another five points. He then asked her if she could help the other students. She agreed, though by the end of the lesson only one other person managed to change their eyebrows, and that was Minerva.

Hermione left the class feeling very happy. She liked the way Dumbledore taught. He was never boring, and he was quite funny. He was also brilliant as he shared many interesting facts throughout the class. She felt that her later classes were not going to be as interesting as Transfiguration. They were bound to be interesting enough, for sure, but just not quite like Dumbledore's.

Her next class was double Charms, and then lunch. She then had two more afternoon classes. She was eager to know how the classes were different in the 1940's than in her time. She swung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the Charms class room with Aiden and Minerva. The others went off to Care of Magical Creatures. Upon entering the classroom she noticed that the only other person in there was the dark-haired boy she'd encountered earlier. She sighed inwardly.

"Great," she thought, "Just great. The Dark Lord is in my Charms class. Marvelous. Bet this class is going to be peachy." If only Harry and Ron could see her now. She wondered what they'd say. She then wondered if they'd noticed that she was gone. Surely they would have. It was nearing two days. But she pushed those thoughts aside as Aiden asked her a question.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He rolled his eyes, "What do you think of quidditch?"

She grimaced.

"Come on; don't tell me you don't like it!" Aiden exclaimed. "It's the best sport in the world!"

"No, sorry, it's just not my cup of tea. But let me guess, you play on the team?"

"Yeah," he answered, "I'm one of the beaters. Minerva here is the seeker."

"That's nice. I'll come to the matches for you guys, then."

Their conversation was ended, though, by the entrance of the teacher, Professor Vincent. She was a short witch, with black hair and good posture.

"I thought that today we could start simple. We'll be working on the Auquamenti Charm. Who here knows what the charm does?"

Hermione raised her hand, but hers wasn't the only one that went up. Many of the people wondered why there were two hands instead of the usual one. The other hand belonged to none other than Tom Riddle. Professor Vincent, pleasantly surprised to have another hand in the air, called on Hermione.

"Yes, Ms.?"

"Perkins, ma'am. Hermione Perkins," she introduced herself. "The Aquamenti Charm summons a jet of clear, pure water and shoots it from the tip of the caster's wand, and, depending on the caster's concentration and intentions, the charm can be anything from a simple jet of water to a wave."

"Perfectly correct. I couldn't have said it better myself. Take five points for Gryffindor."

The class went on as usual; the professor asked more questions, the same two raised their hands every time. Sometimes she would call on Riddle, and he'd give the perfect answer. Sometimes Hermione would answer it, and would get a smile from Professor Vincent who was happy that the new student was extremely smart. Then she told everyone to get into groups and practice the charm.

She was with Minerva and Aiden, and two minutes into the assignment, Hermione had produced a full jet of water (which had earned her praise and more house points). The only person to have performed it as quickly as she was Riddle. This irritated her greatly. Aiden had managed to get a few drops from his wand, and it took Minerva a couple of tries to get it right.

The class was very enjoyable; however, all through the double period Hermione had the prickling sensation that someone was watching her. Not wanting to be too obvious about she asked Minerva, "Can you look around and see if anyone is staring at me? It feels like someone is, and it's driving me crazy."

Her friend looked around and when she spotted who it was, her mouth formed a straight line. Hermione glanced at her.

"It's Riddle," she whispered.

"You mean the one with the dark hair?" she feigned ignorance.

"Yes, and believe me, you don't want him to be staring at you."

She sighed. "Why do you think he is?"

"I don't know, probably because you kept stealing his spotlight in class."

"What're you two talking about?" inquired Aiden who had given up on the charm.

"Nothing really," said Minerva, "just the fact that Riddle keeps staring at Hermione."

Aiden scowled, "I don't like him. You might want to watch out, Hermione, he can be a bit…overbearing? No, that's not the right word."

"Evil?" suggested Minerva.

"Evil? Really? That's the word you use? Honestly?" Hermione stated in false disbelief. She, of course, knew firsthand just how evil he could be, but she had to keep up her act.

"Hermione, you don't know him. There's some stuff he's been accused of, and I honestly think he's responsible for them." Minerva's tone was serious.

"Really, Hermione, he's pretty dark. Don't let his pretty face fool you." Aiden added.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll take your word for it. I'll try to stay clear of him alright?"

The pair of them sighed in relief. "But honestly, how bad can the guy be?"

"Very bad," she thought, "Extremely abominable."

She had every intention of staying away from Riddle, but apparently he had no intention of leaving her be. After class was over she packed up her things and was walking out the door when a hand grabbed her arm. She turned around and was face to face with the tall Slytherin. He had a false smile plastered on his face.

"Ms. Perkins, right? The new student?" He asked in a fake cheeriness.

She nodded, "You're Mr. Riddle? I've heard some people talking about you."

"Yes, that's me. I just wanted to let you know that I found you're participation in class…interesting. But since you're new here I'm going to let you know that most people do not rival me in class. They find it can be quite _dangerous_."

His grip on her arm tightened. She squared her jaw and locked eyes with him, "I'm sure they don't, but I am not most people so my class participation will remain the same. Now, if you don't mind," she pulled her arm away from him and she saw fire blaze in his eyes, "I do have to get to lunch. Good day, Mr. Riddle." And with that clipped farewell she stalked out of the room.

She was feeling very edgy. She'd just stood up to Tom Riddle. The Tom Riddle who had at least killed one person, maybe four, already and was going to kill a lot more in his future. She should probably just throw away her life right now. She sat down next to Aggie in the Great Hall and huffed. Hermione never huffed, but she felt that the situation called for it. She took a piece of chicken and stabbed at it.

Her companions glanced at each other.

"Uh, something wrong?" asked Ciara, putting down her fork.

"Yes." She took a bite of her food.

"Mind telling us what?"

"Tom Riddle. That's what's wrong."

"Hermione, what did he do?" Minerva asked, concerned.

She pushed away her plate. "He caught me after class. Basically said that he didn't appreciate me challenging him in class and he warned me to stop. Like he couldn't let another smart person speak! Who's he to say that I can't voice my intelligence just because he's around?" She already hated him for what he was to become, and his arrogance made her loathe him even more.

"Okay, Hermione, take a deep breath. What exactly did you do?" asked Aiden.

"I told him off and walked away."

"You told him off. Oh that's going to go down real well." Remarked Ciara, "If he wasn't after you already I'm almost positive he will be now."

"What do you mean, 'after me'?" She said nervously. If she wasn't sure he was going to get her already, the reactions of the people surrounding her confirmed that she was dead meat.

"Hopefully you won't have to find out what that means. We'll try our best to make sure him or his little minions don't lay a finger on you." Aggie told her, determination in her voice.

"Speaking of the devil," said Minerva coldly as Riddle walked in the door.

He shot daggers at her. He sat himself at the Slytherin table, deliberately positioning himself so he would have a clear view of Hermione. His strategy was effective as she was feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, but she held her head high. A burly looking boy asked him something and after he replied, he looked at her as well. She groaned internally. She hadn't intentionally made herself a target for one of the darkest people in the school, and possibly, world. It's just that her stubbornness got in the way sometimes.


End file.
